


Chemistry

by scifiwritergirl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifiwritergirl/pseuds/scifiwritergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock struggles to articulate his feelings for John in the only way he knows how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chemistry

Morning light streamed through the curtains, illuminating the flat. The two flatmates sat together over a cup of tea, as they would on any dull morning. Sherlock's cup had gone cold and untouched as John leafed absent-mindedly through the morning paper. Sherlock's fists clenched unconsciously, a concentrative habit that John had learned to ignore, while he ruminated in the deepest of inner conflicts. Finally, with a curse of frustration, he rested his head in his palms and cursed.

"You alright?" John asked, not looking up from the periodical.

Sherlock threw himself back against the couch in a huff. "Better than ever," he spat.

"Listen... something will turn up. It's bound to, right? London's a big city. There's plenty of crime and-"

"No, you moron, not that," Sherlock glared at the curtains.  How dare they sit so complacently while he felt sick to his stomach?

John nearly laughed. "What else could  _possibly_  bother Sherlock Holmes? Has Molly locked you out of the morgue again?"

"No... She learned her lesson the first time." A faint smile nearly lighted Sherlock's face in rememberence, but he corrected the behaviour before it began.  He was supposed to be brooding.  He didn't have time for jokes.

John sighed and put down his newsprint.  "Well then," he said expectantly. "I'm listening."

"Listening to what?"

"Well, if you... you know, if you want to talk about whatever-"

"Don't be ridiculous, I can't talk to _you."_   The words came out harsher than he had intended.  Sherlock averted his eyes and wish John would get up and leave the room, but he had no such luck.

John shifted in his seat. "Right, then. Forget I asked. It's probably too complicated for _me_ to understand."  He sighed and picked up his newspaper again.

"Oh, don't be like that, John. It's just-" he thought for a moment.  How could he articulate soemthing that he himself was incapable of understanding?  How is he to explain it to John of all people?  John, who undoubtedly understands this one thing Sherlock cannot comprehend.  John, who is experienced in something that Sherlock hardly comprehends.

John waited patiently.

"How to put this in terms you'd understand... There's a cliché that would explain what I'm thinking, but I can't recall it," he closed his eyes and placed his palms together in thought. This sort of thing wasn't easy for him. Many people struggle to convey their emotions, but for Sherlock Holmes it is nearly impossible. He forced out his words with difficulty. "It's like something is happening inside me. A chemical reaction, bubbling up and disturbing my consciousness. It changes how I think and feel. It changes my emotions and… it feels good, in a way... but also bad.  Very bad." He shook his head, frustrated by his ineloquence. "The trouble is that you are the catalyst, John!"

The army doctor stared back blankly. "Hm?"

"Chemicals! In me! Because of you!"

John stared, still confused. "Alright... take it easy, now.... What do you mean 'chemicals'? You know more about chemistry than I do. I'm 'practically a novice,' remember?" 

"As am I. A complete and total _novice_. When it comes to this kind of chemistry, at least…." He trailed off, annoyed with this ineptitude, and gripped his head. "You don't understand how this feels right now!"

John pursed his lips in thought hard for a moment. "Have you been drugged? I'm not a chemist, but I'm a doctor, so I may be able to do somethign. I can check you out if you think it might help."

"Ah- Erm… yes, I suppose that may help." Sherlock found John's offer unusually direct, but at least it would make progress. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Alright, come here and let me look at you." John sat beside Sherlock and took his pulse. Sherlock felt his heart beat harder as John's hand wrapped around his pale wrist. He swallowed back his nervousness. Surely, John will understand now. How could he not? He can't possibly be that dense. Isn't it obvious? Sherlock watched the doctor nervously.

"Pulse is a bit quick, but nothing dangerous." John tilted Sherlock's head slightly closer for a better view of his eyes. The detective felt weak having the doctor's gentle hand on his jaw. Color drained from his face. John's skin felt so warm. The touch was dizzying. He fought hard not to swoon, but when John left his flesh, Sherlock missed it immensely.

"Your pupils are dilated a bit more than average, but other than that I don't see anything wrong. There doesn't seem to be any obvious chemical imbalance. It's probably just hightened levels of adrenaline or dopamine... nothing abnormal. Beyond that I can't say any more."

Sherlock tried not to look taken aback. "You have nothing to say about it?"

"Well, what should I say? There's nothing wrong with what you're feeling. It's natural." He shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with the chemistry."

"So you agree, then?"

"Agree with what?"

"That we have chemistry?" Sherlock asked, getting excited.  John finally understood! "And the catalyst is you!"

"Wait… we-?" Sherlock's meaning escaped him.  He looked down, searching for comprehension.

"Yes! Us!" Sherlock nearly jumped out of his seat. " _We have chemistry!_ That's what I've been trying to say!"

"I..." John looked up at Sherlock again, letting the meaning sink in. "You mean…  _us..._ "

"Yes!" Sherlock stood and began to pace the flat in broad steps. "God, I'm so glad that's out of me! I've been thinking about it for so long and trying to work out the meaning. Always there, in the back of my mind, taunting me with what it might mean. This is good. This is very good. Oh, relief! Now, I can finally-" Sherlock's rambling was interrupted when John put his hand on his shoulders and turned the detective to face him. When Sherlock stopped, John leaned upwards and pressed his lips gently against those of his sweet detective. The two stayed suspended in time for a few beautiful moments before John pulled back and looked into Sherlock's eyes. John's face was serene and affectionate, but Sherlock's expression was one of unmaskable shock.

Sherlock stared at John in glorious disbelief and reminded himself to keep breathing. Sherlock took a deep, shuddering breath and leaned his forehead against John's, closing his eyes in unspoken gratitude. He wrapped his arms around John and pressed his body closer.

"J-John," he whispered.

"I know, Sherlock," he returned with an understanding smile. "I know."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and feedback are welcome! This is one of my first fanfics ever, so I hope you liked it!


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